The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (2002)

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From the very first sequence of Peter
Jackson’s The Two Towers — a bravura opening that
stunningly recalls and continues a central sequence from The Fellowship of the Ring — we
feel that we’re in good hands. It’s a promise the subsequent
three hours deliver on imperfectly.

Age Appropriateness

MPAA Rating

Caveat Spectator

The second film of Peter Jackson’s historic three-part
adaptation of J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the
Rings extends and in some ways deepens the achievement of the
first film, but falls short of it in other ways. By almost any
standard, The Two Towers is an immensely accomplished
film; but the standard this film must be judged by is
first of all Tolkien’s book, and secondly Jackson’s brilliant
first film.

By that rarefied standard, Towers cannot be called an
unqualified success. This film is also destined to be more
controversial than its predecessor, as Jackson and
co-screenwriter Frances Walsh have taken
significantly more liberties with the text than before. Subplots
have been changed or added, and many of the most memorable events
from Tolkien’s second volume have been deferred to next year’s
The Return of the
King.

These changes are not without some rationale. Tolkien’s third
book, padded with appendices, tells a shorter part of the story
than the first two; so it makes sense for Jackson, who rightly
wants the third film to be the biggest and best, to enhance that
story at the expense of this one. Also, whereas Tolkien’s
Towers includes, for example, a decisive confrontation
with the evil wizard Saruman, in the films Saruman is useful as a
more palpable villain than the incorporeal Sauron, seen only as a
disembodied Eye; so this confrontation has been postponed.

Nevertheless, after watching Towers, I’m more
conflicted about the end result than I was about
Fellowship. Subsequent viewings of Fellowship have
only confirmed my enthusiasm for that film; how this new film
will hold up to multiple viewings remains to be seen.

Like Tolkien’s book, Peter Jackson’s The Two Towers is
more spectacular and epic in scope than its predecessor. As the
members of the Fellowship go their separate ways, the simple,
episodic storyline of Fellowship gives way to multiple
plot threads running from one end of Middle-earth to the
other.

Hobbits Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee (Elijah Wood and Sean
Astin) head toward the dark land of Mordor, seeking to destroy
the Ring, while their countrymen Merry and Pippin (Billy Boyd and
Dominic Monaghan) are taken prisoner by the forces of Saruman
(Christopher Lee), who don’t know these aren’t the hobbits
they’re looking for. Meanwhile, Aragorn (Viggo Mortensen), with
the elf Legolas and the dwarf Gimli (Orlando Bloom and John
Rhys-Davies), seek to rescue Merry and Pippin, but their paths
continue to diverge.

The oppression and struggle ominously foreshadowed in
Fellowship is here fully realized. The forces of Saruman,
no longer limited to marauding bands but now vast armies, march
relentlessly through Middle-earth, destroying and subduing.
Combat sequences previously limited to skirmishes here give way
here to full-fledged war in one of the most ambitious battles
ever committed to film, the siege at Helm’s Deep.

We see here more of the spectacular vistas of Middle-earth,
from the endless rugged terrain of Rohan and Gondor, to the
tangled interior of Fangorn Forest, so different from
Lothlórien, to the rustic Norse-looking architecture of
Edoras, the capital city of Rohan, to the fearsome outsize
construction of Black Gate, the doorway to Mordor, to the massive
stone walls of Helm’s Deep, the ancient mountain fastness of
Gondor.

While this film has nothing to compete with the charm and
beauty of the first film’s visions of the Shire and Rivendell,
The Two Towers isn’t meant to compete with
Fellowship but to build on it, to presuppose it and go
from there. Jackson has already established what is at stake if
the Shadow triumphs; this is not a film about light, but about
the battle against darkness.

The one great exception, foreshadowed in the opening sequence,
is the glorious return of a departed character — a moment flooded
with as much light and hope as one could wish. In this moment
particularly the underlying religious themes intended by Tolkien
shine with exceptional clarity. (For more on this see my article
"Faith and
Fantasy.")

In addition to the established cast from the first film,
there’s a host of new characters, from wretched Gollum (voiced by
Andy Serkis), to those most outlandish and unimaginable denizens
of Middle-earth, the tree-shepherding Ents, to grey-bearded King
Théoden of Rohan (Bernard Hill) and his martial niece and
nephew, Ã‰owyn and Ã‰omer (Miranda Otto and Karl Urban),
to Faramir of Gondor (David Wenham), brother of Boromir (Sean
Bean), who was slain at the climax of the last film.

Gollum and the Ents rank among the most astonishing triumphs
in the series to date. Gollum, in particular, goes far beyond a
special effect, not only for the breathtaking realism of his
appearance and movements or his seamless integration with the
physical actors and environments, but for Andy Serkis’s textured,
conflicted vocal performance. (Serkis also contributed to
Gollum’s physical performance via motion-capture technology,
creating a more organic and natural sense of motion than totally
computer-created movements.)

As for the Ents, Jackson and his effects team have simply
filmed the unfilmable. Treebeard (voiced by Rhys-Davies, who also
plays Gimli), with his wonderfully arboreal face and peculiar
high-stepping gait; the swaying communion of the Entmoot; and
above all the colossal consequences of the rousing of the Ents
are among this film’s most vivid and memorable
accomplishments.

As characters, on the other hand, the Ents get short shrift.
One of the film’s most glaring weaknesses is the way it keeps
returning to redundant footage of Treebeard with Merry and Pippin
in his branches, striding through Fangorn en route to the Entmoot — a walk that seems to last half the film or more. Again and
again Jackson returns to this image, not wanting us to lose track
of Merry and Pippin but having nothing for them to do. It’s
clearly a holding pattern, and quickly becomes monotonous and
frustrating.

It’s unfortunate, because had Jackson (so to speak) axed some
of this walking footage, he could easily have made room for
other, more interesting parts of Merry and Pippin’s story-arc,
such as the intrigues and complications of their escape from the
Uruk-hai, only gestured at in the film. Even if Jackson had
simply chosen to prolong footage of the Entmoot rather than the
walking, it could have served as a kind of character development,
since the important point about the Ents is how deliberate, even
vegetative, they are in everything they do.

Treebeard’s journey to the Entmoot isn’t the only place where
The Two Towers feels less taut and efficient than it might
have been. The Fellowship of the Ring had a narrative
urgency that came from Jackson’s efforts to do justice to as much
of Tolkien’s narrative as possible; every scene, every moment had
to advance the story, without a moment wasted. At times it even
felt rushed, but in a way that suggested the richness of the
underlying material. It was easy to imagine the same events being
treated at much greater length — a potential partly realized by
the extended-edition
DVD released last month.

With The Two Towers, on the other hand, events no
longer feel rushed, and at times even feel stretched out ("like
butter scraped across too much bread"). The build-up to the
battle at Helm’s Deep, for example, is awfully long, with lots of
footage of warriors girding for battle.

It seems melancholy to say it, but short of restoring the
scenes presumably deferred till the next film, it’s not easy to
imagine an extended version of this film running thirty or forty
minutes longer without seeming padded. Of course, we’ll have to
wait and see what Jackson finally does to know for sure.

One character who could easily benefit from more screen time
is Saruman; despite his importance as a tangible villain, he’s
given virtually nothing to do. In fact, his most noteworthy
moment is a fleeting appearance glimpsed during a startling
interpretation of the rousing of Théoden — one of the most
intriguing creative contributions the filmmakers have to
offer.

Because the climactic episode of The Two Towers — Frodo
and Sam’s confrontation with the ancient, bloated evil of Shelob — is among the events deferred till the next film, it was
necessary to invent another climactic event for them. Jackson and
Walsh accomplished this by significantly altering the role of
Boromir’s brother Faramir in the story. Of all the changes to the
story, this is the one that may prove most disconcerting to
Tolkien fans, since Faramir’s very character is substantially
affected.

Other changes, including the addition of another
death-and-rebirth subplot and the inclusion of more material
inspired by an appendix about the romance of Aragorn and the
Elf-princess Arwen (Liv Tyler), are easier to roll with; and a
much-discussed Arwen-Aragorn-Ã‰owyn "triangle" turns out to
follow the book’s treatment quite closely (which is to say,
Ã‰owyn is drawn to Aragorn, but his heart belongs to
Arwen).

In addition to the relative lack of narrative efficiency,
there’s something else lacking in The Two Towers less easy
to quantify. The most fearful images from Fellowship — the
terrifying Nazgûl; the dread Eye of Sauron — seem somewhat
diminished here.

In Fellowship, the Eye was a disorienting, overwhelming
vision that filled the screen for brief instants at a time. In
Towers, it’s become a special effect hovering between two
prongs atop Barad-Dûr tower (looking, as a friend commented,
not unlike a "power coupling" from Attack of the Clones). The
Nazgûl, too, are still ominous but no longer the stuff of
nightmares.

Against these misgivings must be weighed the film’s great
strengths, notably the superb realization of Gollum’s inner
conflict and outward appearance, the magnificent two-part
conclusion of the episode that began at the bridge of
Khazad-Dûm, and the staggering sieges at Helm’s Deep and
Isengard, as well as the many smaller moments and elements
successfully brought to life from Tolkien’s story.

As with the "middle" films of many trilogies, final judgment
of The Two Towers may have to await the final chapter,
next year’s Return of the
King. What I can say now is that, along with
Fellowship, this film delivers much of what is great about
the book, and remains an order of magnitude above all previous
cinematic efforts at "fantasy" or epic fairy-tale mythopoeia.

Extended Edition Notes

What a difference another 45 minutes can make.

Even more than last year’s extended edition of The
Fellowship of the Ring, this year’s lavish four-disc
release of Jackson’s extended version of The Two Towers so
improves on the original theatrical release as to make it
irrelevant. This is the version of the film that matters.

In my review of the original film, I wrote, #&147;It seems
melancholy to say it, but short of restoring the scenes
presumably deferred till the next film, it’s not easy to imagine
an extended version of this film running thirty or forty minutes
longer without seeming padded."

I was wrong. Newly edited as well as expanded, the extended
Two Towers seems more efficient rather than less.

For example, the impression in the theatrical version that
Pippin and Merry spent most of the film in a holding pattern,
endlessly carried by Treebeard through the forest, is
substantially mitigated by a restored scene of the hobbits on the
ground, where they get to drink Ent-water. The Merry and Pippin
storyline is also improved by a refreshingly cheerful epilogue at
Isengard that makes me long for next year’s Return of the King extended
edition, which Jackson has confirmed will include the ultimate
confrontation of Gandalf and Saruman, cruelly cut from the
theatrical version of the third film.

Another welcome addition is a major flashback scene that sheds
new light on Faramir and his relationship with his father
Denethor (John Noble) and older brother Boromir (Sean Bean), who
was killed at the end of Fellowship. While Faramir still
doesn’t come off as noble in the film as in the book, he is more
sympathetic and his actions are seen in a new light.

Incidentally, the flashback also makes Boromir himself more
sympathetic at the expense of Denethor, whom the film makes the
instigator of Boromir’s participation in the Council of Elrond
and his personal interest in the Ring. While this diverges from
the books, where Gandalf tells us that Boromir was the one who
insisted on going to the Council, I can’t say I particularly mind
seeing Denethor take part of the rap for Boromir’s fate.

Other happy enhancements include a nod to the presence of
Huorns at Helm’s Deep, additional footage of Aragorn and Eowyn,
and an interesting allusion to the missing Tom Bombadil episode
from Fellowship (though no a sign of the merry old fellow
himself). If I were re-rating the film based on the extended
edition, I just might bump up the rating to "A" / four
stars (though I still prefer Fellowship — and, now,
Return of the
King).

Once again the four-disc set overwhelms with two discs of
supplemental material and four commentary tracks, the most
interesting being that of Jackson and his co-screenwriters Fran
Walsh and Philippa Boyens, though for entertainment value many
will prefer to listen to the actors. Among the bonus material is
a feature on Tolkien that discusses his friendship with fellow
Christian myth-maker C. S. Lewis and a documentary on the
technical and acting challenges that went into the making of
Gollum.

It’s interesting how these extended editions have almost taken
the sting out of cruelly omitted bits in the theatrical release
of The Return of the King, especially the final
confrontation of Gandalf and Saruman. We wince as the moment for
the scene comes and goes, knowing that it ought to have been
there, but there’s comfort in thinking that next November, it
will be.